Insanity Thy Name Is Verity
by Sexy-Foxface
Summary: Verity Pennington was the face of innocence and was one who was said to belong in a fairy tale. If only the world knew she wore nothing, but a mask. A mask that disguised what she really was. Behind the dream like features of a princess were the eyes of a killer; like a viper she would strike without warning. Her Games are no children's tale, but one of true horrors.
1. Even I Have Fears

Perfection. That is what I am. A rare beauty that stands out against the crowd with seemingly no flaws.

How easily the surface can lie to you. The surface can hide so many dark secrets that run deep on the inside.

Secrets. How easily mine are hidden from the world. Nobody would ever question my sanity. I'm nothing more than a girl who seems to belong in a fairytale. With my long blonde hair that cascades perfectly down my back with my light blue eyes that seem to sparkle. And my smile can easily charm anyone I deem worthy of my time to speak to.

My secrets are buried deep under the surface nobody can see my true nature. If they did then what would I have left? My facade of perfection would be shattered gone in the wind.

Fear. Something I don't seem to posses. I can't lie to myself about this even I have fears. I fear that one day someone will discover who I truly am. And I cannot let that happen. Ever. Nobody can ever discover the images of blood red skies that rain down deep scarlet drops of blood. Or the fires that lick across the Earth destroying everything. Nobody will ever see the many creative deaths I dream up.

My dreams are filled with the images of my enemies hanging by their necks blood tripping from the corner of their mouths. They are filled with the tortured screams of them calling for mercy as I giggle at the sight of their mangled distorted bodies.

Power. The one thing I want more than anything else. The satisfaction of control over all that are beneath me. The ones who are not worthy to walk the streets of Panem would be cast aside and used as entertainment. My idea of fun is something someone who looks like me would seem to never have interest in.

Killing. My idea of fun. My idea of pure pleasure. Taking the life of another in my own hands. A smile spreads across my face just thinking about it.

Twisted and cruel that is who I am. Do I choose to be this way maybe I do. Maybe I want to be the girl who stalks the arena with stealth as her best friend. Flitting through the night barely touching the ground ending each tributes life with her own hands each death ending in its own creative way. Nobody would be safe from the fairly like girl.

Manipulation is another of my favourite past times. How easy it is to flip my hair over my shoulder and bat my eyelashes and have every boy bow down to me fighting against one another for my attention. The joy I get from using them one at a time before I rip out their hearts and cast them aside as if they were worth less than dirt itself.

I stand here in the seventeen year old section me head held high waiting for the names of the lucky ones who will be chosen to take part of the 63rd Annual Hunger Games.

This year I will be volunteering and nobody will stand in my way of that. I will cut down anyone who even tries.

The name of another girl is called, but I don't even bother to pay attention to the name of the girl who doesn't deserve to represent our District be called.

I push my way through the crowd and call out in a sweet voice, "I volunteer!"

I make my way to the stage and smile innocently out at the crowd as I am asked my name.

"Verity Ophelia Pennington and I make a promise right now to bring home another victor." My ears are filled by the sounds of cheering. They love me they always do.

I pay slight more attention as the male tribute is chosen.

"Archer James Murrow!" A tall rather attractive boy makes his way to the stage and glares out at the crowd letting them know this is where he wants to be.

I glance at him quickly and take him all in. Dark brunette hair, deep green eyes, broad shoulders. Maybe I can have a little fun playing with this boy head before the real Games begin.

"Ladies and Gentleman may I present to you the tributes of District 2 for the 63rd Annual Hunger Games Verity Pennington and Archer Murrow!" Our escort beams out at the crowd.

I take Archer's hand and smile at him softly.

"May the odds ever be in your favour," I say innocently to him as we shake hands.

"If you're wishing me luck save it for someone who needs it like yourself," He responds.

This boy just seems to be getting more and more interesting.

I wave out at the crowd one last time as I am led to the Justice Building. The other tributes better prepare themselves for me.

Insanity. Is what truly defines me.

Insanity thy name is Verity.

**So I would love it if you left a quick review letting me know what you think of the story so far! ^^**


	2. Lies Above The Surface

I am led towards the train station once the goodbyes are finished. Several people came to say goodbye: boys claiming to be in love saying this was their last chance to tell me, girls claiming to be my best friend. This whole town is wrapped around my slender fingers, but my parents didn't even show. This doesn't faze me they have been afraid of me since I was a young age. They were my practice dummies for my manipulative skills I have developed so well. I'm sure they are celebrating that they are free from my clutches.

I giggle and smile at the crowd as I make my way to the train station. Let them see me as nothing more than an innocent fairy like girl before the true me comes out in the arena.

This is where I want to be and nowhere else.

I watch Archer intently as he arrives at the station. He stands tall and strong, not showing any fear. I have seen him around school before, but he's different than most boys in this District. He keeps more to himself and is hostile towards anyone who tries to talk to him. But then again I've always loved a challenge.

As soon as we arrive on the train I walk over to him and place a dainty hand on his shoulder.

"So District partner care to discuss strategy," I flash him a sweet smile.

He shrugs my hand away and scowls, "No, I don't."

On the outside I appear unaffected by his harsh tone, but inside I am not impressed. Nobody speaks to me that way. I can just imagine all the ways I can use him to my advantage if I can just get him to listen. I have never had a problem with getting people to do my bidding for me, so this should be no different.

"Oh, come on Archie at least pretend to play nice; I mean we are going to be in an alliance," I say in my sweet seductive voice. No boy has the capacity to turn away from me.

His face contorts into a stone cold glare, "Nobody calls me that." He hisses through his teeth as he turns on his heels and walks off down the hall. Now as I focus on the way his muscles ripple through his shirt I can picture it; a knife soaring through the air; hitting him square in the back between his shoulder blades. I can almost see the scarlet slowly soaking his shirt and I lick my lips hungrily. I must have him.

I blink my eyes a few times and brought back to my reality. I sigh as Archer's figure vanishes from my view and I twirl down the hall in the opposite direction. My long blonde hair swirls around me in a cascade of golden hues. I giggle softly as I begin to sing,

"Far from home on a path unknown.

We are forced to play in their violent games.

The blood will fall glistening in the sun like ruby waterfalls.

The glint of steel; the pierce of a scream.

The tortured cries that will echo all around.

Sounding like sweet music to my ears.

In the arena no one is safe.

You can't hide from me; not even in your dreams.

We are the ones that are forgotten.

They want to fix the work you've undone.

But desperate cries will go unanswered.

Our lips are sealed as our ears are filled with the constant drone of screams.

As the sky slowly turns gray nobody will be safe.

You can't run from me.

We are the soon to be forgotten.

Nothing, but a part of history.

Twenty three shall fall.

Only one shall rise.

The one that won't be forgotten."

My haunting giggles bounce off the walls in perfect harmony as I skip into the main compartment. My eyes are wide with the excitement a young child would posses. Their lucky they can't see what I see. So, much blood; the slick metallic liquid obscuring my vision. I smile brightly at these visions and sit down at the dining table across from my mentor.

Lysander Blackburn is a large man in his late thirties. I remember watching the taping of his Games awhile back now. He went into the arena alone and he never left his victims in one piece. His insanity is in close step with my own, but mine is still one step ahead.

"I can see your playing up the innocent act. Something slightly uncommon for a career," Lysander states.

It really is all an act, but I can't allow anyone to know that. If anyone could see my true nature I would be cast aside; hidden from the world. Labeled as unfit to be presented to the world. My mind recoils at the thought of being seen as nothing, but a girl gone mad. The arena gives me an excuse to bring out my true insanity within. With my reasoning being the blood of the arena drove me mad nobody would suspect I was born this way.

I tilt my head to the side and look at him with eyes full of innocence, "You think I'm acting?"

"Nobody as innocent as you seem to be would volunteer willingly to be a part o the Games," He says this as he studies me closely.

"I have my reasons for being here," I stand up and wander over to the window not liking the way he was analyzing me.

What really are my reasons for being here? To gain power and to quench my undying thirst to spill blood? Maybe, I finally want the chance to embrace everything that I am capable of. I gaze out the window as we approach the Capitol. Hundreds of people line the streets waving madly at us as we pass them by. I wave in a manner that would be ladled as cute and even twirl a little bit. The crowd cheers loudly at my little act. By the end of these Games I will have all of Panem wrapped around my slender fingers. When I think about it this shouldn't be too difficult. Then my eyes fall onto Archer who is now talking to our mentor. He is a different story. I always loved a challenge, but there is something about him that I can't quite place my fingers on. Something about how he is able to resist my charm. That is something nobody has ever been able to achieve. There must be much more to him then my eyes allow me to see. I won't stop until I discover exactly what it is that makes him tick.

It may be dangerous for me to feel drawn to him, but I must know. I am the only one that should be able to hold so many secrets and keep them safely buried away from prying eyes. I watch him closely; observing each of his movements. He remains an unreadable mask; something which I don't like.

Archer and I are led by our escort off the train and out into the Capitol. Everything seems, so perfect on the surface. In contrast I am much the same way.


End file.
